Blaze and the Dark Rider (14 page)

The car pulled into the driveway outside Issie’s front door. Avery parked the car, but before he opened Issie’s door to let her out he placed a hand on her arm. “The price we pay for loving horses this much, unfortunately, is that they can break our hearts. But that doesn’t mean that we should ever stop caring. Even now you mustn’t give up on Blaze,” Avery said. “She still needs you.”

“But, Tom,” Issie protested, “it’s over. Francoise has her and they must be leaving town next week. There’s nothing I can do.”

Avery shook his head. “The bond you have made
with Blaze is impossible for anyone to break, Issie.”

He reached across her now and swung open the passenger door. Issie stepped shakily out of the car and Avery pulled the door shut again behind her.

He had driven a few metres down the driveway when he stopped the car and wound down the passenger window and spoke again. “She’ll always be your horse, Isadora. The question is—do you have enough faith to still be her girl?”

And with that, Avery floored the accelerator on the Range Rover, leaving Issie standing in the driveway in floods of tears as he drove away.

The signs had already been taken down outside the gates and the trucks were being loaded when Issie arrived at El Caballo Danza Magnifico. As she walked through the main arena there were men up in the rafters above her dismantling the vast lighting rigs.

“Hey! Be careful down there! Does anyone know that you’re here?” one of the men yelled out at her as Issie walked nervously underneath them.

“It’s OK, Joe—she’s here to meet Francoise.” Rene, the burly security man, stepped out into the arena and beckoned with his right hand for Issie to follow him down the corridor to the stables.

As they walked down the corridor that ran between the horse stalls Issie could see Francoise at the far end
standing in front of the large wooden doors. She appeared to be in a heated discussion of some sort with two of the young stable hands. Issie could only hear snippets of what they were saying.

Francoise was shouting at the boys now and her hands were waving wildly in the air. “You should have known better. Marius has a huge jump in him. The fence was only adequate for keeping the mares. Never a stallion!” Francoise fumed.

The boys responded meekly to this. Issie couldn’t hear what they said but it certainly didn’t impress Francoise, who threw her hands up in the air in disbelief and stormed off.

She had got halfway along the stable block before she realised that it was Issie at the other end walking towards her. “Isadora!
Bonjour
.”Francoise grinned. “I am so glad that you have come.”

“Is there something wrong, Francoise?” Issie replied, gesturing towards the two stable boys who were now moving horses through into their loose boxes.

“Pah! Something wrong? Those boys are idiots!” Francoise groaned, rolling her eyes. “I-d-i-o-t-s!” she stated again.

“Do you know what is the hardest thing for us running a travelling school?” she asked. “Well, I will tell you. The hardest thing is controlling the stallions when they realise that there are mares right next door.”

Francoise shook her head. “This is not easy. To control the stallions it is best, of course, if they do not see the mares at all. To keep them apart we put them in separate wings of the stables, and when we graze the horses outdoors when the weather is warm, as it has been lately, we always keep the mares at least two fields away from any stallions. That is the rule here at El Caballo Danza Magnifico. The problem is,” she sighed, “some of these young boys they do not bother to learn the rules.”

Francoise began to walk back down the corridor towards the wing of the stable where they kept the mares, and she gestured for Issie to walk with her.

“A few nights ago, when the moon was full and the weather was fine, we let the mares out to graze,” Francoise continued. “Unfortunately, the boys did not realise this. And so, in the paddock right next door, they put Marius! Can you believe this? Marius! Of all the stallions he is the most powerful, the best jumper.

Well, of course he hurdled the fence in a matter of minutes. But it was hours before the stable boys had noticed their mistake. By then he had been in with my mares for such a long time it was chaos!”

Issie felt her pulse quicken. A stallion left wild with mares was dangerous. He could do all kinds of damage. What if Blaze had been in the paddock too? “Are the mares OK?” she asked Francoise, her voice tight with concern.

“Oui
, Isadora. Yes, I believe they are all OK. It is Salome that we are most concerned about. When we found them in the paddock, Marius was with her. The vet is checking her out once more now. Come, I am sure you will want to see her. And I know she will want to see you.” Francoise smiled at Issie and pushed through the large wooden double doors that led at last into the mares’ stables.

Next to the third stable door in the row Issie could see a man in overalls, she guessed it must be the vet, putting a vial of blood into a bag on the floor.

“Bonjour
, Nigel, how is she doing? Has she recovered?” Francoise said to the vet.

“She’s fine,” the vet responded. “That bite mark on
her neck is healing well and I’ve given her another antibiotic shot. I’m hoping it won’t scar, but at least it will be hidden by her mane,” he said. “I’ve taken some blood to do further tests, but we’ll have to wait a couple of days for the results,” the vet continued, packing his equipment into the bag. “The mare seems to be fine.”

“Merci. À bientôt!”
Francoise smiled. And then she turned to Issie. “I am so glad you have come. I did not think you would. This must be difficult for you?”

Issie nodded.

“For me also,” Francoise said. “It has not been easy because your horse pines for you, do you know that? She has been off her feed anyway and I cannot think what else it could be…” she grinned, “unless she is lovesick for Marius! When I found the two of them together they were quite the romantic couple.” She laughed.

“Anyway, Salome will settle in eventually,” she added. “But perhaps it is good for her now that you are here once more to say goodbye.” Francoise nodded towards the stable doors. “She is in there. Spend as long as you like with her as there is no performance
today. We are busy packing. Then come and find me before you leave. I have something for you.”

Issie unbolted the bottom half of the Dutch door and ducked down to slip into the stable. Inside, the room was all gloom and shadows. Issie felt the straw bedding scrunching beneath her feet as she moved across the room and flicked on the light switch on the wall.

Illuminated in the far corner of the stall was Blaze. The mare was wearing a silver halter and Issie could see that the shining name plate on the halter read with her name, Salome. Above the name plate, something gold flickered. Issie moved closer to inspect the golden object and realised that it was one half of a golden heart which was threaded on to Blaze’s halter. Issie had seen friendship hearts like these at school. The idea was that you wore one half of the heart as a necklace and your friend wore the other half as a symbol that you were best friends for ever.

“Hey, girl,” Issie said softly. “Look at you with your pretty silver halter. Don’t you look fancy?”

Blaze nickered softly in return and moved around in the stall now so that her nose was facing Issie. She gave the girl a gentle nudge and Issie felt the warm,
velvet smoothness of Blaze’s muzzle against her bare skin. The mare nudged again, harder this time and Issie giggled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, of course I’ve got you a farewell present,” she said, reaching into her pocket and producing a slice of apple.

Blaze took a step closer to Issie and her lips fumbled across the palm of Issie’s open hand, searching out the apple, which she munched down eagerly.

“Do you want some more?” Issie asked, pulling another two pieces of apple out of her pocket and palming them to Blaze who eagerly snuffled them up.

As Blaze chewed on the last of the apple pieces, Issie slipped under her neck and around to the other side of the mare so that she could check her wound. Sure enough, there were the teeth marks in Blaze’s neck, down low near the wither, hidden by her mane. The vet had applied antiseptic cream and there seemed to be no sign of infection, Issie noted with relief.

“Oh, Blaze! Look at you getting into trouble the minute I’m not around. What are you going to do when I’m not there to look after you?” Issie murmured. And
at that moment she realised the truth. Tomorrow Blaze would be gone, and Issie wouldn’t be there to look after her any more. It was really over. Blaze was leaving.

Issie stepped over to the bucket of grooming brushes that were hanging on the wall next to Blaze’s untouched hay net. She reached her hand into the bucket and pulled out a body brush. Then she stood back to assess the horse, before beginning to work with gentle strokes, moving the brush over the mare’s neck and chest and then down her front legs, sweeping down the delicate tendons over the knee and the cannon bone and down to the pastern.

After a while she stood up again and brushed Blaze’s back where the saddle normally sat, brushing over her flanks and rump and down again, and finally working vigorously on her hocks. When Issie had kept Blaze in the paddock at the pony club those hocks were usually muddy from rolling when she brought her in to groom her. But here, at El Caballo Danza Magnifico, the mare was stabled warm and dry so her coat was clean and shiny. She didn’t need brushing at all, but Issie wanted to groom her, just one last time.

She worked around to the other side of the horse,
taking a mane comb and running it through the fine strands of Blaze’s mane. It was so much silkier and less bushy than Mystic’s mane had been.
But then Mystic had just been an ordinary old pony
Issie thought,
and Blaze was a purebred Anglo-Arab with papers to prove it
.

Still, she had loved both her horses equally. When she lost Mystic, she thought that she would never love another horse again. And then along came Blaze, so different to Mystic, so temperamental and haughty. But hadn’t she won the mare over? There was a bond between them now; Blaze was her horse. In her heart she always would be. But now, she realised, she had to let her go.

“I’m so sorry, girl, but there’s nothing else I can do,” Issie said. She flung her arms around Blaze’s neck one last time and buried her face in her mane. “It’s time to say goodbye,” she said.

Issie ran her hand down Blaze’s nose, slowly tracing along the thin white blaze that began as a star on the mare’s forehead. Issie had named her Blaze because of that white marking on her face, but the horse had a new name now. Issie stepped back to the stable door. “Goodbye, Salome,” she said. “I hope they love you as
much as I do.” And with that, Issie stepped out of the stable and bolted the door behind her.

Blinded by tears, Issie was making her way back out through the sawdust arena when she heard a voice calling out to her, “Isadora! Wait!”

Francoise ran over to where Issie was standing. “I told you to come and see me before you left,” she said gently. Then she thrust a small package wrapped in white tissue paper into her hand. “For you,” she said. “Keep it close always and do not forget us.”

Issie took the package and looked up at Francoise. The raven-haired Frenchwoman had tears shining in her eyes. “I am sorry but I must go now,” she said. “There is so much to be done before we leave tomorrow.” She smiled at Issie. “I am sure this is not goodbye. So I will say
à bientôt
—see you soon. Until we meet again.”

Francoise began to stride across the arena. Then she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Do not worry, Isadora. I will take good care of her. I promise you.” And with that, Francoise walked away.

Issie watched as she disappeared through the stable doorway, and then she turned too and headed for home.

It wasn’t until much later, when Issie was in her bedroom that evening, that she finally opened the paper package to see what Francoise had given her. Nestled inside the white layers of tissue she saw something gold glittering in the light. Issie picked it up carefully. It was one half of a broken golden heart—to match the broken heart on Blaze’s halter.

The weather turned bad the next day and Issie looked out the window and thought about Francoise and her team loading their horses in the pouring rain. A little rain wouldn’t stop them of course, Issie realised. Blaze would still be leaving today. She stared out at the dark grey skies, and watched the window fog up with her breath.

“Issie, I’ve made pancakes!” her mum called from downstairs. Issie didn’t usually have time for breakfast. Most days she was too busy charging out the door to go down to the paddock. But there was no horse to hurry off to any more. She padded downstairs, still in her pyjamas, and sat at the table.

“Do you want real maple syrup or the fake stuff?” Mrs Brown asked.

“Fake, thanks, Mum,” Issie said. Her mother always asked the question—even though she knew that Issie preferred the taste of the synthetic syrup to the honest maple-leaf version.